


Something New

by CJAndre



Series: The Something 'Verse [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: D/s, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJAndre/pseuds/CJAndre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is trying to feel his way through this... thing. You know. The thing with Rodney. Whatever it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something New

Living in Atlantis was more like living in a village than a city. A person could count on running into almost everyone, almost every day. Sure, the city itself was huge, but the expedition was only occupying the labs and personnel quarters nearest the stargate. All together, the area amounted to not much more than a couple of city blocks. On top of that, there were the meetings, meals in the common mess hall, and only so many places to go for black market coffee and chocolate.

All of that said, the only explanation John could come up with for the fact that he hadn't seen Rodney in three days was that Rodney didn't want to be seen.

Not that John was obsessing about what had happened three days ago.

Not at all.

He had other things to do. Like run a city and work out with Teyla.

 _Crack. Swish. Snap. Thud._

 _Ow._

Teyla's voice floated down from a few feet above his head. "You are not focused, Major. Clear your mind."

She had really nice boots.

"Right." He climbed back to his feet and focused.

 _Swish, swish, crack, swish, crack-crack-THWACK!_

"Ow!"

"Major?" Teyla's voice was a lot more concerned this time and didn't stay the usual four feet above his head. Instead, she was kneeling next to him and prodding at—

"Ow! Okay!"

His ribs.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and managed to relax his jaw enough to say, "I think maybe I better call it quits for the day."

"I apologize, Major. I misjudged your block." Which was Teyla's very neutral voiced way of saying that he hadn't blocked at all, and thus he was going to be sleeping on his right side tonight.

"Not a problem. My own fault." He stuck to short sentences that could be grunted as he pressed up to a sitting position. Teyla gave him a hand, and he wasn't too proud to take it. After all, the woman had just kicked his butt all over the practice room.

John straightened and felt the ache on his left side turn sharp when he rolled his shoulders. Teyla just looked at him before crossing the room in long easy strides to get their workout bags.

"If I may make a suggestion?" she asked.

"Sure."

"It is better to be resolved in one's actions and clear in one's thoughts before training. Even with practice weapons." She was doing the arched brow thing that meant she'd seen right through him.

Well, damn.

"Right. Good point." John took the duffle in his right hand, put the sticks under the same arm, and took a few steps to see if the ribs were going to be too tender for carrying all his stuff.

"Can I help you to the infirmary?" Teyla's voice was level, but her eyes kept flicking back and forth from his face to his injured side.

"Huh? No." John grinned at her and stood taller, relaxing his shoulders. He tried to project a healthy glow in spite of the stabbing pain that slid under his ribs every time he took a normal breath. "I've had worse in training before. I'll go take a hot shower and be better before you know it.

Teyla's eyebrows rose even higher. "You are sure?"

"Yup!" John tried for a bright tone, but it still came out forced.

"Very well, I will see you here again in seven days time, after your ribs are feeling better and the bruising has faded somewhat." Her tone left no room for argument. John knew he was busted.

He gave her his best charming-but-sheepish smile and turned for the door as she picked up her own sticks and started practicing one of her many katas. The sticks whistled though the air and her leather skirt snapped with each precise movement.

As soon as the doors shut behind him, John allowed himself to wince and lean against the wall for a moment with his eyes shut. He really wished he had a transporter in his room so he could just beam there, but even the Ancients hadn't made life quite that easy for themselves, so he was just going to have to suffer. It wasn't as if anyone were waiting for him to get back to his quarters anyway.

He snorted and shook his head at his train of thought.

Teyla was right. He was far too distracted to have been working out. He'd just wanted to turn his brain off for a while, and, up until recently, it had been easy enough to do that when he worked out with Teyla.

He opened his eyes and set his jaw as he hefted his workout bag and the sticks. It was his own fault he'd bruised his ribs, so he might as well deal with it.

By the time he'd made it back to the busier corridors, he'd found a pattern of step-limp that let him keep his left side mostly immobile. He got a few curious looks from the science staffers that he passed, and a couple of commiserating grimaces from the marines, who knew enough to spot a training injury. John just nodded back. Yeah, he'd gotten his ass kicked. Nothing special. Get back to work.

He wasn't really watching where he was going when a large group of people came spilling into the corridor from one of the labs, all talking at once. It sounded like the tail end of something that might have been a meeting, but it could have just as easily been an argument.

John paused to let the crowd get past him and caught sight of Rodney in the middle gesturing emphatically. So obviously it was both a meeting and an argument. John just listened and smirked.

Kavanaugh's nasal voice rode over several others. "You're saying you want us to interrupt vital projects to walk through possibly unsafe corridors that can be just as easily inspected remotely?"

"Thank you!" Rodney declaimed to the ceiling in with his usual sarcasm-in-the-face-of-other's-stupidity voice. "That's right, when I say inspection I mean actually walking around and looking for damage, because sensors can be WRONG! Especially 10,000-year-old sensors that have been submerged in seawater. So you will get your gear, you will assemble team lists, and I will have them by tomorrow morning!"

With that, the huddle of scientists broke, with three of the participants scattering directly into John's path. One of them, Miko, a small Japanese woman, was backing away from Rodney's tirade and managed to catch John in the ribs with her elbow as she turned.

John managed a "Fuck!" as he dropped his bag and clutched at his ribs. Bent double over his bag, both arms wrapped around his middle, he was vaguely aware of crepe-soled shoes shuffling around him and figures crowding in close.

"What happened?"

"Are you okay, Major?"

He couldn't quite get his breath back to answer them.

Damn.

They'd probably make him go to the infirmary.

"Out!" Rodney's clipped tones sent all the other shoes away. "I believe I just established that you all have work to do. Go, I'll handle this."

Rodney's hand was on his shoulder, then, and John took a shallow breath as he turned his head to see Rodney squatting next to him, looking concerned.

"Hey," John greeted the man he hadn't been able to find for the last three days.

"Major? Are you all right?" Rodney shook his head before John could answer. "No. Stupid question. Where does it hurt? Do you want me to call Carson?"

John straightened up, glad for the wall at his back. He waved off Rodney's concern. "It's okay. I just took a hit in training today and wasn't expecting to take another one in the corridor, that's all. It's fine. I'm heading back to my quarters to sleep it off."

Rodney raised his eyebrows, eyes wide with disbelief. "Sleep it off? A three foot tall, stereotypically meek Japanese girl just decked you with her clipboard. I think you need something more than a little sleep."

"Miko is at least five feet tall, and it was her elbow," John corrected with a grin, while he tried to think of a way to shake Rodney off.

John wasn't entirely sure how this whole... thing between him and Rodney worked, but he didn't think he should show any weakness. That would probably be a turn-off, and John really wanted another chance with Rodney. He really wanted to get Rodney into a lockable room and do some more delineating.

"Right, so this is what? Some macho thing?" Rodney snorted as he picked up John's workout bag in one hand and grabbed John's arm in the other. "Let me walk you back to your quarters, anyway. Elizabeth wouldn't take kindly to you cluttering up her corridors by passing out."

"I'm not passing out!" John protested even as he allowed Rodney to keep hold of his arm.

"Ha!" Rodney tried to take the sticks out of John's other hand, but John pulled them away and continued to walk on his own. He only leaned a little bit on Rodney.

Rodney huffed again. "Oh, come on. Give me those."

"I've got them." John frowned.

"Fine," Rodney's long-suffering sigh was deep enough to cause a breeze over in the gateroom. "I won't touch your sacred symbols of masculinity."

John stopped. "My what?"

Rodney shrugged, keeping his grip on John's bag with one hand and tugging on John's elbow with the other while looking like he wished he had a third hand free to wave in the air. "You know, your fighting sticks, manly weapons, penis extensions, whatever. I won't touch them. Wouldn't want you to look too dependent on the geeky scientist, would we? Wouldn't want to interfere with your air of command."

Rodney started moving and dragging John with him. John let his feet go on automatic, because there was something going on here. Something, definitely, but he had no idea what.

Rodney wasn't looking at him. But then, Rodney hadn't looked at him during most of…the thing, either. Head down, eyes averted, even when his back hadn't been to John. It had been as if he hadn't wanted to make it personal. Which pretty much fit in with what little John knew about Rodney's past encounters with Dr. Eric Beale.

The dickwad.

John clenched his sticks a little tighter. Unfortunately, the dickwad wasn't around for one of John's training sessions, and John couldn't really afford to waste time on him anyway.

Instead, he studied Rodney's profile. John noted the fixed stare, the clenched jaw and pinched lips. Last time Rodney's lips had been soft and nervous. He'd kept licking them and holding them slightly open. There was nothing open about his face now, no deference or shyness, and John was a little surprised to feel – not exactly disappointed, but unsatisfied.

The door to John's quarters slid open before he was even aware that they had arrived.

"Right. Well, here we are." Rodney dropped his grip on John's arm as soon as they crossed the threshold, and set John's bag at the foot of the bed. "Get some sleep, Major."

John narrowed his eyes and watched Rodney turn and head back out the door.

"How are you sleeping?" John whipped out the question as the door slid shut in Rodney's face.

Rodney spun around, and faced John with a stiff back and outthrust jaw. "Fine. No problems."

"Really?" John could feel the tension running out of his shoulders. He cocked his head and smirked. "So. No further treatments required, huh?"

He watched Rodney's Adam's apple bob up and down. He saw Rodney's fingers twitch as if they wanted to clench. He took a step closer and felt Rodney's body heat though the clammy city air. They could do this. John knew they could do this if Rodney would just let it happen.

"Look, Major. I am not a girl. I'm not going to hang around your door, or wait for you in the cafeteria. I appreciate the-" Rodney faltered. "The help you gave me, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to fall at your feet or beg to carry out your every command."

"So, what does it mean, exactly?"

"Excuse me?"

John shrugged and took a few steps forward until Rodney had to tilt his head up slightly to meet look him in the eye. "It's just that you seem to think you have it all figured out, so why don't you let me in on it."

"Fine." Rodney's eyes narrowed, and his spine straightened. "I am not your project, your pity fuck, or your pet. I am not going to come running every time you snap your fingers, and you are not going to hold anything over me. We may not be on Earth, but I’m sure that you would find it difficult to maintain command should I decide to make our little encounter widely known

John ribs ached for a second as his gut clenched, but he never let the pain reach his face. In the back of his head a familiar voice dug at him: _Way to go, John, you can't even have a relationship with someone who wants to be ordered around._

He consciously relaxed his shoulders even more and gave a vague nod of his head. "Okay."

Rodney deflated and had that confused look on his face that meant he'd received data that didn't fit his hypothesis.

"What do you mean, 'Okay?'"

"I mean, 'okay,' McKay. Fine." John turned his back on the other man and walked around to the side of his bed and sat down with his sticks beside him. "You're in good shape. You're sleeping. The team is cleared for missions and that's what matters. Thanks for helping me carry my stuff back. I'll see you around."

"That's it?" Rodney didn't even notice the door behind him open. "I mean- yes. I'll see you around. We're still teammates, after all." Rodney turned, looked a bit surprised to see the exit waiting for him, and then turned back. "Aren't we?"

John wished pushing Rodney out were as easy as directing Atlantis. "Sure."

"That's good. That's—" Rodney's voice trailed off. John didn't look at him; he just waited for the sound of footsteps hurrying out of the room.

Instead he heard the swish of the door closing, and when he looked over his shoulder, Rodney was still standing there.

The door had slid shut, but John hadn't shut it.

Standing up with bruised ribs was little harder than sitting down, so John used one of his sticks to brace himself. Once he was facing Rodney, John just quirked an eyebrow and waited.

Rodney finally looked straight at him. "I—um, thought… this would be different."

"Different how?"

"I thought you'd want to be in control all the time. Telling me what to do." Rodney had the same look on his face that he had when he was trying to figure out alien technology. "I thought you'd take what happened the other night as justification for thinking I'd be on-call for your… you."

A low opinion of his morals was something John had gotten used, but somehow he hadn't expected it from Rodney. "Thanks for that vote of confidence."

"Well, I didn't think it at first!" McKay whined. "But that's the way it always ended up with Eric, and I didn't have enough data to anticipate a different result. I decided I should err on the side of caution."

"Oh, yeah, because I'm so much like the wonderful Dr. Beale."

"And how was I supposed to know?

John snorted. "One: orders are for when we're in the field and I'm trying to make sure you don't get your ass shot off. Two, what about all the stuff you told me about 'delineating?' Isn't that why we decided on a time and a place? That's not about ordering, that's about—" John stuttered to a halt, not sure exactly how to put into words what he knew had gone on between them.

"Agreeing," Rodney jumped in with a snap of his fingers. He was nodding quickly, the way he sometimes did when discussing theories with Zelenka. "A mutually agreed upon exchange of power. My intellectual prowess takes a temporary backseat to your physicality for the purpose of –" Rodney waved his hand.

John grinned. "A really hot fuck?"

"If you must be so crude." Rodney agreed, with a slightly pained expression on his face.

"So." John raised the stick he still held and ran the tip up the inside of Rodney's leg, gently tracing the fly, and then continuing up until the tip was circling Rodney's left nipple. "Are you agreeing?"

"Now?"

"Your choice. I'll let you leave, if you want."

"I don't need your permission!"

"You don't," John agreed, and it felt like a puzzle piece had just slid into place. He moved the tip of the fighting stick to just under Rodney's jaw, and forced his head up. "But I think you want it."

Rodney tried to sneer. "And that's why you threaten me with your stick?"

"You know, I 'm beginning to think you like the stick, Rodney."

John was in the groove. He'd found that sweet spot where every move he made was right, something that previously he'd only felt while flying. He watched a flush creep up Rodney's face, and knew that the man's whole chest was blushing the same deep pink. John smiled. He'd be seeing that blush in its entirety soon enough.

"I," Rodney swallowed. "I think I should take this opportunity to mention, or perhaps re-iterate, that I don't like pain. I don't, and I won't put up with it."

"So that's one of our rules, then. I can agree to that." John smiled and watched as Rodney looked at him expectantly, then swallowed against the tip of the fighting stick that was still under his chin.

"So, put the stick down."

John continued to smile.

"No."

Rodney's eyes bugged out. "What do you mean 'NO?'"

John walked around behind Rodney, looking him up and down slowly, and moving the tip of the stick around as if pointing out all the special points of interest on Rodney's body: his broad shoulders, his perfect peach of an ass, the nape of his neck.

"Go over there by the bed," he finally said, and tapped the length of the stick across Rodney's butt. "And take off your earpiece. You won't be needing it for a while."

Rodney jumped, but John also saw him lick his lips and let his eyes dart around the room, like he was looking for a secret stash of S/M gear.

John knew he had him when Rodney pulled off his earpiece and asked, "So, how long?"

"Have you got anything to do the rest of this afternoon?"

Rodney shook his head, eyes wide.

"Cool."

And then he went back to herding Rodney with little taps, directing him with the stick. "So, go on. Over by the bed. Now."

Rodney gave a jerky nod, and went where he was told. John followed and tried to keep his stride smooth, but now that he wasn't worried about Rodney leaving, he could feel his bruised ribs making themselves known again. He couldn't let it show, though; the last thing he wanted was Rodney back into mother hen mode.

This called for distraction.

"You know, I think I'm kind of offended. You act like the only thing I can do with my... stick… is hurt someone. I can use it for a lot more than that."

"Oh, well, pardon me for looking at a WEAPON and thinking that you might hurt someone with it!"

"Not someone. You. You thought I'd hurt you." John turned Rodney around and ran the tip of the stick down the middle of Rodney's chest, and then he licked his lips and shifted his weight slightly, trying to take the pressure off his left side as he held the practice stick out at arms length. He wanted to undress Rodney, to peel away the barriers between them, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to get his left arm up high enough to pull Rodney's shirt off, and Rodney would notice if he favored one side.

He let the tip of the stick play across Rodney's body, and got an idea. The logistics of this were going to be tricky, but John was a pilot and he figured he could put his spatial reasoning to good use here.

"Unzip your shirt, Rodney"

The bobbing of Rodney's Adam's apple was clear as he pulled down the zipper of his collar. The delicate skin over his collarbone was white and lickable, and John had to hold himself back. He had a plan.

John walked around behind Rodney and stood close enough to see his breath disturbing the hairs on the back of Rodney's neck.

"Lift your arms."

Rodney shivered but did exactly as he was told.

John could see how Rodney sucked in his gut a little, expecting John to grab the hem of the shirt and pull. John made him wait.

"Don't move."

He took a step back and slid his stick up under the shirt, straight up Rodney's spine so that the length of the cool wood rested against Rodney's skin. Then John raised the pommel, while resting the tip of the stick on Rodney's shoulder. He watched the grey fabric ruck up, revealing Rodney's broad back, and then flicked the shirt up and off.

"Now, did that hurt?"

Rodney shook his head.

John felt his cock twitch as he realized that he'd gotten Rodney to that nearly non-verbal place again, which was just so fucking cool when you considered that this was Rodney McKay, who never shut up for anything.

John ran the tip of the stick down Rodney's back and under his arm as he walked around him.

Stopping with the tip at Rodney's fly, he glanced down to admire how Rodney's cock was making a valiant effort to burst through the zipper.

"Unzip your pants, but don't take them off yet."

Rodney swallowed and nodded. He undid his pants and left them hanging open. John could see Rodney's hands were shaking just a bit, and felt a jolt of desire hit his stomach. That he could do this, make Rodney feel this, it was like the first time he'd soloed in a jet.

Unbelievable rush.

"Put your hands behind your back." He said it gently, as he stepped in close enough to feel the heat coming off Rodney's blushing face.

John raised the pommel of the stick, never moving the tip away from that spot just above the his open fly, so that the stick was pointing straight down. Then he slid it into Rodney's pants, under the elastic of the boxers, and right between Rodney's legs. The tip of the stick caught the underwear and pants in the crotch and John forced them down. Rodney gasped as his cock bounced free and rubbed along the stick, and John could see the strain in his shoulders as he resisted the urge to bring his hands forward and protect himself.

When Rodney's pants were down around his ankles, John smiled and paused to take in the view. Rodney was panting, his skin flushed, his nipples hard, and his cock was pointed straight at John.

"Damn. You look good this way."

John leaned forward, but decided not to kiss just yet. He was so close, he could smell Rodney's aftershave mixed with Rodney's own musk. For a second John was overwhelmed with the memory of Rodney in a garter belt, bent over, with his perfect ass in the air. He followed the line of Rodney's neck with his nose, breathing in deeply, but then backed up and used the point of the fighting stick to push Rodney against the bed. The edge of the mattress caught Rodney in the knees and forced him to sit abruptly.

As Rodney sat there looking overwhelmed and at sea, John wished he could simply kneel down and take Rodney's shoes off and finish stripping him, but he wasn't sure he could do it without showing how much his ribs hurt. Anyway, it wasn't really in character, was it? Instead he said, "Go ahead, take them off all the way. Socks and shoes, too. Get comfortable."

Rodney nodded and managed a brief, "Right," as he quickly took off his shoes, socks, pants and underwear.

"Get up on the bed, on all fours."

John grabbed the lube from his bedside table while maneuvering Rodney into position with a few well-placed taps on the thighs. Rodney's cock was bobbing up and down, and his legs were close together, as if trying to protect himself from being so completely exposed, but John wouldn't- couldn't allow that. He tapped on Rodney's inner thighs until they were as far apart as possible, and then he took a moment to simply look.

Rodney was panting. He was blushing all over. His cock was hard up against his stomach, and as John watched, pre-come began to drip down to the sheets. Rodney's head was down, resting on his arms, and John couldn't get over the way he just waited- waited for John's next move, his next order.

"You're amazing. So good." John whispered, as he inched the tip of his stick right down Rodney's spine into the crack of his ass.

Rodney whimpered and shook, but John didn't stop. The stick was highly polished and slid smoothly down between Rodney's cheeks. John was distantly aware of Rodney shaking his head and trembling even more, but he was so entranced by the sight before him that it didn't really register. Not until Rodney managed to choke out, "Wrai-" just as John let the tip of the stick continue smoothly down Rodney's right leg.

The sound was as effective as a bucket of ice water. "Rodney?"

"I-- Sorry. I—just thought--" Rodney stuttered, and his fists were twisted, white-knuckled, in the bed sheet. His right arm is turned just enough that John could see a long, thin scar.

It brought back memories of rain, and fear, and threats. It reminded him that Rodney was a member of his team. A member of his team that, apparently, believed he was about to be raped with a three-foot, polished fighting stick.

The change from John to Major Sheppard was so fast it made him nauseous.

"Was that your word, Rodney? Did you just say 'Wraith'?"

Rodney shook his head frantically, but he still wouldn't look up. John knelt next to Rodney on the bed and gripped his shoulder, half-heartedly trying to pull Rodney up off his elbows.

"Fuck, Rodney, I didn't- Look, say the word and we stop. I mean it. Say the word."

John stroked Rodney's back. Eventually the shaking stopped, and Rodney's hands loosened their grip on the sheets. Finally, he reached up with his right and laced his fingers together with John's.

"It's okay. I'm good."

"No! It's not fucking okay! I was stupid. I took it too far. You should never feel-"

Rodney pulled their hands forward and took John's thumb in his mouth and sucked. It was hot and wet and sweet and John got hard again faster than he’d thought possible. He grunted and awkwardly rocked against Rodney's side, trying to not dislodge his thumb from Rodney's mouth. The angle was all wrong, though, and John ended up panting and unsatisfied.

Which was probably why he almost shot in his pants when Rodney gave him a little nip around the knuckle and said in a husky voice, "Stop now, and your confidential personnel file will become the most widely read document in two galaxies."

And just like that, it was okay. Rodney was still Rodney no matter what games they played.

"Right," John grabbed the stick from where it had fallen to the mattress, and once again used it to push Rodney's legs apart. "Remember to keep your knees wide enough for the length of the stick. Don't make me tie them there."

"Knees wide. Got it."

The lube was there, next to them on the bed, and John was generous with it, going slow and teasing until Rodney was whimpering, panting and rocking back.

The height of the bed was awkward, John's ribs were killing him, and he still wasn't sure he knew what he was doing, but damn, Rodney looked good and felt better. John used one hand to unbutton and push down his pants and grip his cock at the base.

"You've never done this before, have you?" John kept one hand on Rodney's hip and his other on his cock, not moving, just letting Rodney feel the thickness of the head waiting for entrance.

"No. Not- Not like this." Rodney's voice was weak and cracked, but just the fact that he was speaking let John know that Rodney was still too nervous to slip completely into that space where he had no words.

"On your back?"

"No, I mean, not with another person. With dildos, sometimes. A butt plug a couple of times."

John had to close his eyes and consciously force away the anger the rose up from his gut at the image of some shadowy figure watching Rodney fuck himself with a toy.

"It was okay," Rodney continued. "But I've wondered about the real thing."

"Well, I'm going to fuck you, Rodney, and I'm not going to use some damn stick or a latex dick. It'll be my cock, and you're going to feel every inch of it."

Rodney nodded violently and tried to spread his legs even further apart.

"Just breathe. In and out. In and out." John started moving in time to the breaths as Rodney picked up on the directions. "That's it. You're doing great. Push back, now. You can take it."

Rodney whined but pushed back steadily.

"That's it. You look so hot on my bed with you ass in the air. Show me how you can take it, Rodney." John knew he was babbling, and on some level he hoped he didn't sound too stupid, but most of his mind was taken up with the amazing, hot, tight, slickness that his cock was sinking into.

Rodney's moans got louder, and he started slamming back onto John's cock. John grunted as his ribs took a hit, but he didn't falter when Rodney knelt up to get a hand free to start pumping his own cock.

Rodney was shaking his head side to side and he keening now, a desperate sound that made John grip that much tighter. John hauled Rodney back against him and kissed the back of Rodney's neck as he got one hand across Rodney's chest and started twisting a nipple.

"Oh, god! Oh, god, make me! Make me! Fuck, please, please, make me!" Rodney's frantic words were almost enough to make John come right there, but they also put him in control: Rodney couldn't come until John gave his permission.

John continued slamming home as Rodney's pleas got more frantic, and his hand got rougher on his cock.

John's ribs were sore, his legs were going to sleep, and sweat was dripping off his back, but none of that mattered as he leaned forward, slipped one hand over Rodney's as he stroked his cock, and whispered in a hoarse voice: "Now. Right fucking now, McKay!"

And Rodney wailed and came, shootings all over John's hand, and shaking. The rhythmic clenching around his cock combined with the throb of his bruised ribs was almost more than John could take. The room spun around on a wave of endorphins and John clenched his teeth as he came, feeling like his ribs were well on their way to breaking, and yet loving it.

When he opened his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling and Rodney was beside him, face buried in John's neck.

"Are you going to faint again?" John asked.

"Pass out."

John chuckled, followed immediately by a hiss as his ribs refused to be silent even after amazing sex.

Rodney jerked up. "You're hurt? Of course, you are. Why didn't you remind me? I'll call Carson."

"I already said I was fine. Just leave it." John tried to pull Rodney back down on the bed, but Rodney was having none of it. He pawed at John's shirt and pulled it up above John's nipples.

"My God, could you be any furrier?" Rodney smirked as he ran his fingers through John's abundant chest hair.

"Do you want me to be?" John tried to subtly angle his chest so that Rodney's fingertips would skim over his nipples.

"I'd like to see -" Rodney's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He had pushed back John's shirt far enough to reveal the heavy bruising on his left side. "How did you- Shit. I'm calling Carson."

"I don't need-"

Rodney jumped up and started frantically looking for the earpiece he'd dropped earlier. "Of all the idiotic, macho, ridiculous-"

"Rodney!"

"-as if pain were sexy – It's not!" This was accompanied by a pause and a glare.

John opened his mouth, but didn't get any further, partly because he couldn't get over the sight of a completely naked, come-covered Rodney McKay frantically searching through the clothes strewn around the room.

"Who knows if you did any permanent damage to yourself? How do you think I'm going to live with that?"

John didn't come out of his bemused state until, with a cry of triumph, Rodney found the tiny radio earpiece.

"Rodney, stop! Think. Look at yourself."

Rodney froze, his hand halfway to his ear, and looked down at his naked chest and half hard cock.

"Do you really want to call Carson now?" John asked. "Or would it be better to get cleaned up and walk me down to the infirmary?"

"Walk you? As in with you?"

John couldn't tell what had Rodney more in shock – the idea of being found naked by Carson and his medical team, or the idea of walking down the corridor, fully clothed, with John. John shut his eyes and took a moment to envision throttling a faceless man against an office door that read "Dr. Eric Beale, specialist in sleep disorders and mind fucking."

"Yes, with me." John raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Unless you're afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me."

"Oh, please."

"Exactly."

Rodney blushed all the way down to his chest. It was a good look on him.

Ducking his head and refusing to meet John's eyes, Rodney placed his earpiece on the bedside table and held out his hand to John. "Come on then, as long as you understand that I'm not expecting anything, and you don't have to-"

John kissed him, feeling the groove again. Like flying. "I've walked across dozen's of planets with you. I think I can make it across the city."

The blush was back. It really did look good.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: My thanks to those people who volunteered to do the beta on this - all offers were greatly appreciated.


End file.
